


Pas de Bonne Fin

by pickwicklingpapers



Series: Cophine AUs [11]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, F/F, hospital au, im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 23:45:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15130376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pickwicklingpapers/pseuds/pickwicklingpapers
Summary: 'you’re in the hospital bed next to me and we fight over what to watch on the shared tv' au





	Pas de Bonne Fin

Cosima’s lungs are giving up on her.

Honestly, it’s a special kind of betrayal when it’s your own body doing it. The constant knowledge that hey, the only thing in this world that you can’t survive without just doesn’t seem to want to be a part of the team. On her bad days, every breath was so bittersweet. Want to go to the beach with Kira? No, sit here with an oxygen tank instead. Want to go to the opening of Felix’s new art show? Well, A&E has a seat for you and the only artwork available costs under ten dollars.  She almost wished she’d never found that first lymph node – if you’re going to die anyway, then what does it matter when you find out? Surely extra time of sweet obliviousness is kinder than knowing that every breathe you take is numbered? Instead, she’d received a ticket straight to the pulmonologist, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred. Twelve months of tests and bloods and breathing into various tubes at various rates, and the doctors had finally given up. They didn’t know what was up with her. Silver lining – they’d promised to at least name the thing after her. So instead of getting treatment, she waited.

Mostly it was okay – she was well enough that she was allowed to be home most of the time. She could still go on vacation, still play with Kira, still get drunk with Felix. She came to the hospital once a month for bloods, and honestly that was better than what most terminal people got. Doctor Leekie, who was running her research group, seemed like a good guy, even if his past published papers did seem a little eugenics-y. He let her look at the data when she asked and he seemed to respect her degree, which was more than a lot of know-it-all doctors did.

The worst part of it was the waiting. Or rather, the waiting by herself. Sure, she was waiting to die, but who isn’t? Everyone else gets to wait whilst doing something they enjoy, but no, Cosima got to wait in an empty hospital room, praying that someone would be able to come and see her next time visiting hours came round. When she was out it was fine, but the days she spent in the hospital were long, dull and terrifying. Doctors don’t tend to prioritise patients who can look after themselves, and she’d somehow ended up the only occupier of a two bed room. Dull, dull, dull.

Scratch that, the worst part was that she really didn’t need to be in this hospital. Okay, yeah, sure, she’d had a seizure or two, but who hasn’t, right? And the doctor had confirmed that there had been no long lasting effects. She was practically fine. The nurses kept harping on about how ‘we can’t let you go until you get your O2 levels back up’, but who were they kidding? Her levels were fine. She just collapsed a couple of times. But if there’s no treatment, then there’s no need to be in a hospital, yeah?

God, the sitting around in this bed was, figuratively if not literally, killing her.

 

* * *

 

It was eight o’clock. Not visiting hours, not doctors’ rounds, not time to be tested, prodded or poked, and so the sudden opening of the doors made Cosima immediately snap to attention. She’d been watching reruns of the Jeremy Kyle show, and as entertaining as it was, she doesn’t need anybody actually knowing that, especially not Felix. Stabbing at the remote, she cranes her neck to catch a glimpse of the bed being wheeled into the bay next to her. The porters surrounding the bed fix it in position before leaving, but the curtain still obscures her view.  Cosima leans over and, with a grunt, manages to pull it back without dislodging any of her tubes. Biggest accomplishment of her past six months, easily.

There’s one of the most beautiful women that Cosima has ever seen sat in the next bed, with the most adorable curly blonde hair that bobs at her shoulders. Her wide brown eyes are like deep pools of chocolate, and Cosima can feel herself falling straight into them like Augustus fuckin’ Gloop. This angel that has been transported into her room literally takes her breath away, although that could just be the disease. Cosima decides that it’s the woman. She’s romantic like that.

“Hey!” She waves cheerfully. “Cosima. 324b21”

“Oh, um, I’m Delphine.” The blonde woman says, in what has to be the single most sexy accent that Cosima has ever heard. “I don’t know if I have a number..?”

Cosima holds an arm up in the air and waves it. “On your tag – there’s a number on your tag. Something to do with patient numbers and identification.”

Delphine frowns and holds up her wrist to squint at the bracelet. “1924, 27..63, N.” She clears her throat and smiles. “Delphine, 1924,2763,N, enchanteé.”

Cosima grins. “Enchanteé.”

Delphine grimaces at Cosima’s butchered accent and smothers a giggle. It’s the cutest thing that Cosima has seen since she last looked at Delphine’s face. A silence falls between them. It’s comfortable though, content. If they weren’t both in a hospital bed, Cosima would be trying to get Delphine on a date already. What do the french like? Wine? Baguettes? The Eiffel tower? Never mind. She’ll be here for a while, she has time to work on her master plan. And to maybe tone down this crush, because it’s been five minutes and it’s already getting ridiculous.

“So, Delphine, what brings you to Casa Niehaus?” She gestures grandly at the bland and empty room. “And how long will you be staying?”

Delphine gives a little half grin. “I, er, actually I got shot.” She gestures at her abdomen. “In a parking garage.”

‘Wow,’ laughs Cosima incredulously. ‘Out of all the things I was expecting you to say, that wasn’t even on the list. A parking garage, really?” She shakes her head. “That’s like an episode of Law and Order or something. Like, full on crime drama realness. You in the mafia or something?’

Delphine smiles ruefully. ‘Or something. I actually work for the hospital, down in the labs. I’m leading a group that’s focussing on eradicating auto-immune diseases, and we had just had a major breakthrough.”

“What, and someone shot you for it?” Cosima gasped, “That’s literally the most James Bond thing that I’ve ever heard. Like, I’m sorry that someone tried to kill you, but oh my god, I cannot believe that something like that actually happened. It did, right? You’re not shitting me?”

“I would not, how do you say, _shit_ you, Cosima Neihaus.” Delphine shrugged. “Research like that is very valuable. Think how much the cure to cancer would be worth. There are the people in the job for the joy of solving puzzles and saving people, and then there are the people who want to make money and know that they can exploit the sick easily. If you could resolve auto-immune issues, you could cure so many people. It is not surprising that people would kill for it.”

Cosima’s mouth hung open. “Oh my god, so now whoever it was has your research? And it’ll become some kind of immunological arms race between your group and the shooter’s?”

“I write all my notes in a code based on base pairs, so they will have a difficult time finding out what it says. I find that paranoia is often worth it, especially when things like this actually happen to it.” Delphine shrugs. “It’s just sad that there’s so many people out there who would rather make money than help people. The first thing that I saw when I woke up from surgery was my boss, Rachel. She didn’t even ask how I was, just whether or not the research was safe.”

“Wow, that’s cold, dude.” She leaned over and squeezed Delphine’s hand. “So you’re an immunologist, right?” She asked, casting about for a subject change.

“I am a medical doctor,” Delphine replied, squeezing back. “But when I moved over here I started work on my immunology doctorate, and now I work here.”

“Oh, no way! Two doctorates? I thought I was smart, but I guess I’d better call my mom and tell her that I’m a disappointment after all.” Cosima teased. “Hey, so if you work down in the labs, do you know my friend Scott? Brown hair, glasses, kind of looks like he’s both the kicked puppy and the guilt-ridden man who kicked the puppy?”

Delphine nodded “Oui – I like Scott. He is a nice man. He cares. It is nice to have someone else who doesn’t just want the money.”

Cosima grinned. “We went to grad school together. I’m evo-devo – evolutionary development” she added at Delphine’s confused expression, “and he was genetics or whatever, but we always ended up in the lab together. He’s good people. He’s actually working on me right now, so when you get out you can pop over and have a nose at my notes.” She laughs. “I give you informed consent.”

“You will be in here for a long time?” Delphine frowned. “What is the matter?”

“Oh, I’m afraid that I’m a bit of a hotel California – I can check out, but I can never leave.” Cosima grins. “They don’t actually know what’s wrong with me, just that it’s something with my lungs, so really I’m in and out until I’m in one final time. There’s no good end for me, so don’t get too attached.” She laughs, and Delphine thinks that it sounds like bells. “Personally, I’m hoping for a miracle.”

Delphine smiled, all blonde curls and perfect teeth. “Cosima Niehaus, you deserve one.”

 

* * *

 

Somehow, they’ve ended up discussing death.

It happens sometimes. There’s something about the morbidity of a hospital bed, especially when one of you nearly died on the way into it, and the only way out of it for the other is death. It’s somehow inevitable that, eventually, you’re going to end up having a grand philosophical discussion. For Cosima and Delphine, this happens at least once a week. Neither of them are on any particularly strong painkillers, so they don’t sleep all that much more than usual. No one really comes to see them – the doctors and nurses pretty much let them be in favour of hovering over the patients more likely to go critical without any given notice – and whilst Cosima’s family are great at coming to keep them company, they all have jobs they have to get to. She doesn’t need them there 24/7, at least not yet. That’s the kind of desperation that you keep for the End, when you’re feverishly trying to cram in more time. No one ever comes to visit Delphine, but she’s started to feel like Felix and Sarah and Mrs. S are her family too. She’s not quite there yet with Alison, but Delphine’s not quite sure that anyone is. Even Donnie.

The wall behind their beds is peppered with children’s drawings – from Gemma and Oscar and Kira. They’re bright spots of colour on the hospital green walls, and Delphine draws so much strength from them that once, under the influence of some pretty strong painkillers, she’d told Cosima that she thought they healed her more than the medicine did.

All in all, they’re pretty much left to their own devices, and there’s only so much tv that can be watched, even if Scott did manage to hook it up to Netflix. The days are long and the inactivity makes them longer, so it’s nice to have someone to chat to. Even if Cosima’s fascination with morbidity did make for some interesting conversation choices.

It’s dusk outside, and the room is too shady to see each other properly, but Cosima turns her head towards Delphine nonetheless. ‘I think that when I die I’d like to be buried, you know? I like the idea of giving back to nature -  ashes to ashes, dust to dust and all that jazz. I like to picture this elegant slate headstone in a shady corner of a grassy graveyard. A big weeping willow bending over it, like the earth itself was crying for me.’ She smiles. ‘I like the drama, you know? And I’d have some daffodils out front to give some colour. I don’t think graveyards should be sad - reverent, sure, but not sad. I think a grave is somewhere you can go to remember how great someone was and how much you loved them and their life.’ She shrugs. ‘I have the spot all picked out.’

Delphine smiles. ‘I think that sounds lovely. It sounds perfect. I don’t have anyone who would make arrangements for me so I think I will maybe end up in a box somewhere when I am old, but I would love that, I think.’

Cosima reaches across the gap between them and takes her hand. “I won’t let you end up in a box,” she says, “you come and lie next to me instead. We can match. We’ll have a grand eternity together.”

Each of them smiles into the darkness of the room, unaware that the other mirrors both their actions and emotions perfectly.

 

* * *

 

Scott’s managed to get them hooked up with Netflix, and honestly? It’s the worst thing he could have done.

Before, they were limited by the tv timetable – and only now does Cosima realise just how many arguments that saved them. See, the problem is that Netflix is too accessible, to broad. And whilst Cosima loves a nice Louis Theroux documentary, a tantalising X Files episode, _anything_ with a sweet conspiracy in it, Delphine prefers moody and abstract French crime dramas or just 24/7 news. In the week since they gained this new power, it has caused more arguments than the time that the nurses kept giving Delphine chocolate pudding and not Cosima. It is not working out. At all.

Felix walks in on them fighting over the remote once – hampered by the fact that neither can really leave their bed, and opens the door just as the remote ends up on the floor between them. Dora the explorer is playing at full volume – the result of Cosima attempting to wind Delphine up as much as possible – and honestly, they might both be in a hospital bed on a recovery ward, but they’re never been lower. He gives them both an exasperated look, spins on his heel, and leaves without a word. Next time Sarah brings Kira to visit, she shakes her head at the two of them and says that Felix refuses to visit again until they’ve, quote, ‘sorted their shit out’.

Doctor Leekie still comes to check on Cosima every once in a while, which is suddenly a lot more awkward than before. She can’t pin down exactly why that is until Delphine shares their past history with her. “When I first started here, he kept coming down to the labs and trying to, um, hit on me? I did not realise for a long time until one of my colleagues told me. We had a very awkward conversation where I told him that I was not interested, and I haven’t really seen him since.” She blushed. “He is a little slimy, non? I did not want that. Unfortunately, because I had been oblivious for so many months, he thought that that was encouragement. It was not good.”

“He’s old enough to be your actual father, what the ever living _fuck_?” Cosima had exclaimed. “Slimy is the perfect word for it. It’s the smile, right? Every time he tries to be reassuring, I can’t help but wonder what he’s planning behind it, it’s so plastic.” She shuddered. “Nope.”

The great TV war of room 309 carries on for a good week until Kira tells them, very sternly, in a tone no doubt learnt from Mrs. S., that if they don’t stop squabbling and learn to take turns then she’ll tell the nurses not to bring them any pudding until they sort themselves out.

They settle on planet earth. It’s good, it’s wholesome. It makes them feel better about being stuck behind a glass wall.

 

* * *

 

Three weeks into her stay, Delphine wakes to the sound of alarms. For a moment she lies there, completely disorientated, until it dawns on her. Those are _medical_ alarms. Emergency medical alarms. And she feels fine, which means –

“Cosima? Cosima!”

They hadn’t gone to sleep until after midnight, too busy whispering about everything and nothing, too busy learning everything that there is to learn about each other. It’s still dark outside, no hint of sunrise, which means that it’s only been a couple of hours since they drifted off, which means that there’ll only be a skeleton staff on, which means that if there’s other emergencies, it might be a while until anyone actually reaches Cosima.

She can see the faint silhouette of Cosima, lit a ghastly green by the medical readouts. She’s seizing, and badly. There’s a terrible gasping sound, long and drawn out, that she suddenly realises is Cosima. _She can’t breathe_ , she thinks. She can’t hear any footsteps, which means that, for the moment, no one is coming. They’re all busy. To her, there’s no one more important than Cosima, but she knows from her medical days that that’s not how a hospital works. Delphine ignores the pain in her stomach and levers herself out of bed, staggering towards Cosima, and grabs her by the shoulders. She calls her name a couple more times, but there’s no response. Her breathing’s barely there, just long, shallow gasps as her head rolls back and her shoulders hunch in.

Delphine leans into the readout screens, trying to read what’s happening in the limited light, a series of curses flying from her lips. “Mon dieu Cosima, sit u meurs je vais te tuer moi-même.” _My god Cosima, if you die then I’ll fucking kill you myself_. She slams her palm against the call button a couple of times, even though she knows it won’t make a difference. Everyone who needs to know, knows that there’s an emergency, and Cosima’s next in the queue. It’s Delphine’s job to keep Cosima alive until then. With no medicine. With no equipment. In the dark.

She can feel liquid rolling down her stomach – she’s torn a stitch, and she knows that reopening a wound increases the chance of infection, she knows that she’s increasing her recovery time with every second that she stays stood next to Cosima’s bed, but fuck anybody who thinks that she can just lie back and let this happen to someone that she cares about. Fuck anybody who thinks that she could just let this happen to anybody. The seizure’s stopped now, so Delphine double checks Cosima’s breathing before rolling her into the recovery position. It won’t help much – Cosima’s body is almost physically incapable of keeping her lungs working right now – but it’s the most she can do without any equipment. If she just had the equipment and a nurse, she could intubate and Cosima would be okay , and where the _hell_ is everybody? The pain in her abdomen is excruciating now, but still somehow less than the pain in her chest. She can’t lose Cosima. Not like this. Not because of a night shift and a lack off staff. Not she hasn’t said goodbye. She hasn’t said what she needs to say.

The lights are suddenly thrown on, and she throws her hand up from Cosima’s shoulder to shield her eyes. She’s gently moved out of the way by a nurse before she can get her bearings, and lead back over to her bed. The nurse says something about how she’s done well, and how she should rest, but Delphine’s too numb to hear it. How can she rest when Cosima could be dying in the bed next to her? The nurse coaxes her to sit down, and Delphine wants to scream at her to get back over to the bed where’s there’s an actual emergency. Wants to shove her away and sprint back to Cosima’s side. Wants to hold Cosima’s hand just one more time. But she can’t do any of it, can’t even move a muscle. She’s stuck, eyes transfixed on Cosima’s bad, on the shadowy figure surrounded by men in masks.

“There’s nothing more that we can do here,” one of the doctors shouts, “get her to ICU immediately. She’s going to need surgery, but we need to fully stabilise her first.” He rattles off instructions too quickly for Delphine to follow, but the nurses all nod and move to complete his orders. A nurse shuts off the wailing machines, and Delphine feels like her sense have been cut off with them. The other doctor pats the first on the shoulder – a congratulation? A commiseration? – her ponytail swinging too cheerfully. Cosima could be dying, and this preppy doctor dares to have cheerful hair. Cosima could be dying? Don’t the understand? Cosima could be dying?

They leave Delphine stood in the dark. The room is suddenly quiet without the sounds of the machines, the shouting, Cosima’s desperate gasping. Everything feels dampened without her, and as she watched the bed get wheeled away down the corridor, she feels like her heart’s going with it.

 “I love you.” she whispers.

 

* * *

 

In the corner of a graveyard, a headstone sits underneath a willow tree. It’s well cared for, and the branches gently brush the top. Daffodils are planted around it, and they sway in the gentle spring breeze.

“Hey Delphine.” Cosima says, kneeling in front of the headstone. It’s a crisp spring day, and she’s wrapped up within an inch of her life. “I’m sorry I didn’t visit earlier but they wouldn’t let me out of the hospital. I got pretty sick there for a while, and I’m sorry if I worried you. But hey, Scott and his guys worked some absolute magic and guess what?” She pauses for a while, settling back on her heels. “They found a cure. So I’m free. No more tubes for me. It was your breakthrough that helped them get it – they realised that it was caused by an autoimmune reaction that got very out of control, and worked from there. You saved me Delphine. You literally saved me, and I wish I could hug you like you deserve. Every single breath that I take is because of you, and I promise you, I _promise_ , that I’m not ever going to take that for granted.” Cosima sighs, and shrugs. “Anyway. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you. You died on the day that I got better, and honestly I don’t know if that was the right trade. They told me that you’d named me in your will, put me in charge of your funeral and given me your house, left me all your stuff. I’m glad that I meant that much to you, because you meant that much to me too, and I’m sorry that I never said it out loud. The letter you wrote me broke my heart, and honestly Delphine, I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.”

The wind rustles Cosima’s dreadlocks, and she tucks the ends more securely into her scarf. “I hope you like it here. I picked out the spot that we both liked, just like we discussed. I was planning to join you here, but I suppose it won’t happen for a while now. I want to live a long life, and enjoy everything that I never thought I’d get to enjoy. I want to travel, and have children, and make a real difference to something or someone. And then, when I’m old, I want to die peacefully in my sleep, because I’ve really had enough of hospitals to last a lifetime. So until then, I guess you’ll just have to wait here for me, with the daffodils and the birds and the willow tree. I’ll keep visiting, I promise, I’ll always visit.” She gets to her feet and reaches out to touch the grey slate.

“Bye Delphine."

 

 

_I love you_

**Author's Note:**

> back with a cheeky little 4k after literally a year of nothing, i'm trash
> 
> 1924-2763-N is apparently delphine’s dyad id tag
> 
> u can blame matthias schweighöfer for this because I was listening to his album and it’d depressing as fuck. i’m sorry. how're we all feeling about a good omens au?


End file.
